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Airship Helena
Ship name - Airship Helena Officially formed - September 25, 2012 Affiliation – S.C.A.R.S Vessel classification – Military Vessel type – Bagless Airship World of origin – Prester Crew: Captain Deilsuun (npc'ed, read backstory when it comes up.) First Officer: Ragnvaldr Perseus Phillipus Head Mechanic: Vice Crossblade Mechanic: Azrael Gasser: Nergui Medic: Cossette About/airship backstory: Lt. Commanders log, 8th of Cyris. My previous log was destroyed along with most of the ship. I have found some unused writing utensils. I searched the wreckage and found one other survivor besides myself. A mechanic named Vice. He’s been busy fixing his father’s vanship. Given the destruction of the rest of the vanships and the Claridon itself I am amazed the vanship is still in one piece. Still, repairs on it are taking time, and its toll on our spirits. I have been trying to help him but I am disastrously out of my element. Instead, I have been putting up shelter, rummaging for foodstuffs and the like. Lt. Commanders log, 9th of Cyris. I asked for an estimated time on the repairs. The response was not encouraging. I estimate another half day left on foodstuffs from the Claridon. I’ll have to start searching the local area for anything we can eat. My survival training did not cover unknown worlds at all. I am worried about accidentally poisoning us from herbs and fruit. Seems local animals are our best bet. Time to see if my weapons training can come into play hunting. Lt Commanders log 10th of Cyris. They did not. We don’t have any food left. Our spirits are running low. I’ll try again today, but in the meantime I will log the final moments of the Battleship Claridon. I had been noting the captains decreasing mental stability in my previous log for weeks. The war with the Voldir Protectorate was coming to an end. We won. The Voldir just didn’t realize it yet, but they were catching on. We were in the Grand Stream. We had just spotted an enemy battleship. Crows nest reported flares, white and white. They surrendered unconditionally without any shots fired. The captain was furious at this. He demanded combat. He gave the order to start heavy cannon firing sequence. The bridge crew hesitated. We all thought the same thing. I didn’t know what to do. The first officer belayed the order to begin firing sequence. The captain became enraged. The first officer tried to restrain the captain. The helmsman left his post to help detain the captain. The captain pushed the first officer off and drew his sidearm. The shot went through the helmsman and into the ships controls. The helmsman dropped, and the Claridon started sinking. In the ensuing chaos I ran to the armored escape pod. I barely heard more shots and the sonar officer trying to get control of the Claridon and bring her up. He was a valiant man, as is - excuse me - was, the first officer. Lt. Commanders log 11th of Cyris. I was able to fashion a crude rodent trap and we got lucky, sort of. I caught what looks to be some sort possum. I can’t imagine this would taste even mediocre. The vanship is about fixed. Vice is worried about Claudia levels. I don’t think we have enough of the fuel to fly very far. I’m worried about flying out and then getting stranded away from the raw materials the crash of the Claridon provides. Continuing my escape from the crashing Claridon I had made it to the armored escape pod, but the escape launch mechanism wasn’t working. I was stuck in the pod on the sinking Claridon. I was frightened because the hatch locked shut and won’t open until landing sequence is completed. I felt the impact of exiting the Grand Stream. It was different. It felt different. More powerful. The jarring lasted longer. I seemed to have hit my head and got knocked out at some point. Next thing I knew I was climbing out of the wreckage. It seems the pod armor and the Claridon itself has buffered most of the damage from the impact, but not all. I came out heavily wounded, thankfully not mortally. I first took care of my wounds that I thought were serious then went looking for survivors. It was one of the few times in my adult life I wept, unabashedly so. As I walked I grew more and more depressed. The carnage, the dead mutilated bodies, my shipmates, my friends, were gone. For the first time in my life I felt helpless. I thought it would have been better had I done something when I was on the bridge. Instead of running like a coward, instead of doing nothing. Maybe if I had helped the first officer I would have been shot instead of the helmsman. Instead of the ship and all hands dead. I would have gladly died if it meant so many others would have lived. I wished. I wished I had died in the crash. Lt Commanders log 12th of Cyris. The vanship is theoretically in flying shape. We don’t want to run it until we are ready to leave. We need to preserve as much Claudia as possible. Vice and I are gathering all the things we might need for the trip and in case we are stranded without finding civilization. An all too real and scary possibility. I did ‘hunt’ if you can call that hunting. Caught another one of those possum things and a rabbit. I wish I hadn’t caught the rabbit. In my land it’s a symbol of peace and revered. It was a little straw, but a straw none the less. Vice asked why I was tearing up. I didn’t answer. We did a final check and on an odd whim I searched through the wreckage again. Whether it was saying my last goodbyes and trying to find some closure I don’t know, but it proved fortuitous. I found my family swords and my personal side-arm. We left immediately afterwards. Lt Commanders log 14th of Cyris. A stroke of luck. The Claudia lasted longer than anticipated. We found a river and followed it for a day at a slow cruising speed to save Claudia and to not put too much strain on the engine. We came upon a large city. A patrol vessel came out to meet us. I used a signal light I found in the wreckage to transmit “friendly, require assistance” but no response came. The frigate didn’t seem to notice. It brought about its forward guns aiming at us. I didn’t know what else to do. Vice brought us down low and told me to signal S.O.S. I looked confused until he got out of his seat climbed over the flying vanship and took a big swing with his hammer at his port thruster. It started smoking heavily and Vice climbed back to his seat as I signaled the mayday. The patrol frigate did not fire and picked us up along with the vanship. Once on board, the crew of the Lassiter apologized once they realized what was actually happening. Apparently they have problems with pirates and the like. We also did not have a piece of equipment called a radio. Which they were using to try and contact us. It seems there is all manner of things they have here that is completely new and entirely foreign to us. It is exciting and wondrous this culture shock if only it didn’t remind me of what we left behind. Lt commanders log 15th of Cyris. We have taken to sleeping under the cover of our vanship and our supplies of blankets we took from the wreckage. We got dropped off on the outskirts of town so that the slum quarter wouldn’t tear vice’s vanship apart for parts to sell. It seems that without any money those were our only two options. We’ve gone regularly into town to get a lay of the city as well as to try and get a job of some sort. Unfortunately, it seems most jobs require a working vessel, and we don’t have one as we have no fuel. The search is proving fruitless. We could join a ship and get a portion of their earnings, but I don’t think we would feel right if we rented ourselves to pirates or mercenaries. Vice suggested using my dueling skills and having a few ‘friendly’ bouts for some cash but that sounds way too dishonorable. I heard about a bar called sky marshal’s I’ll check it out tomorrow. Lt Commanders log 16th of Cyris. It seems like sky marshals is a no go. They’re all full up. That night we were ambushed by a group of thugs. Thankfully they were piss poor shots. We gave them two warnings while undercover. They seemed intent on killing us and taking vice’s vanship. We tossed out one of vice’s flash bang grenades he constructed from some of the parts we took from the Claridon. It got most of them but one was able to take cover. We disarmed them but the one that took cover I shot in the arm. He dropped his side-arm. We successfully apprehended all 4 of them. No casualties but the one I shot needed medical attention. Vice took the 3 not wounded to the local peace keepers. I took the one I shot to a medical facility. He will be taken care of but I don’t think he’ll like going to a jail cell after he gets out. The weapons were confiscated except for one. A rather unique weapon that belongs to someone named Faythan. I have decided to take this back to him personally, and possibly find out how he lost this weapon in the first place. Lt. Commanders log 18th of Cyris My search for Faythan has brought me back to a tavern I am told he visits regularly. I happened upon him one time and talked with him at length. I explained our predicament to him and he seemed sympathetic. He didn’t want his gun back. He said I “earned” it, and he has many others. He also went so far as to see what kind of strings he could pull to get us onto a ship. Seems like our luck is starting to turn. I am worried though. My father used to tell me, “If something seems too good to be true, it usually is”. This definitely seems like one of those times. I have gotten us a future, but I am waiting apprehensively for the price that comes with it. Lt. Commanders log 21st of Cyris Faythan came through. Vice and I have appropriate stations on board the Helena. It’s a light carrier captained by a man named Deilsuun. He is highly decorated, and has an ego to go with it. I was worried about the crew accepting us in this highly unconventional “transfer” as faythan calls it. It is clear to anyone who looks at us for any period of time that we were not trained in this lands formal military schools, nor do we know the colloquialisms, nor much of the strange technology. However, the crew seems to be ok with their new shipmates. Very cautious, but that is understandable. The captain either knows that we’re not from here and doesn’t care, or his ego is blinding him to the people surrounding him. I thought I had a bit of pride on being a fast learner, but this is just too much. I suppose it’ll do me some good finally being able to put my mind to work and keep busy. These last few days doing nothing and dwelling on the Claridon have been torture. I just hope, and pray that we don’t offend anyone on board and have them call us out. That could prove disastrous. Lt. Commanders log 25th of Cyris After this log I am going to change my log entries date format with this worlds chronology system. It is beginning to grow tiresome remembering what day it is according to my world. The Captain has a mission for us. Refugee recovery. Essentially P.O.W. rescue. I was elated to finally do something at first. Then during mission briefing my ‘giddiness’ was quickly squelched. The Captain expects us to do a quick strike landing on an O.R.D.E.R. base have marines secure a perimeter around the ship and load the p.o.w.’s while fighters provide support. Get in. Load p.o.w.’s. Get out quickly. The problems with this ‘plan’ is that it shouldn’t be a plan to begin with. The enemy base has two light frigates on station at all times. Six anti-ship batteries, three to four frigates in reserve about an hour away, two full platoons, and an undetermined amount of mounted ground guns. The frigates themselves our ship could ‘technically’ handle. Though I have yet to see the Helena in combat yet. The other frigates possibly if we play our cards right, and stay in the air. But the anti-ship batteries and the sheer amount of ground forces at the enemy F.O.B. make this plan a suicide mission if we’re planning on landing. I have strongly voiced my disagreement at the mission briefing, but at threat of court marshal and my already tenuous relationship onboard we are going a head with this mission. At the very least I believe I have gained a number of allies on the crew for my statements. I have already begun planning on how to minimize damage and casualties with the rest of the crew when this goes to shit. Sadly, I’m sure it will. Lt Commanders log 15th of September Vice and the rest of the engineering crew have modified the engine to give more output during takeoff and accelerate faster, but at a cost of lower top speed. Hopefully, this will be a wise decision. If my hunch is correct, we will need to get out of dodge, fast. Once in the air our combat options will improve. We have made other necessities as well. The captain has negotiated to borrow some actual shock trooper marines for this mission as well. I hope they know what they signed up for. I talked, and by talked I mean argued, with the captain again about this mission. It appears he has a son in this camp. That I can understand a bit more and I let the issue drop, but I still believe this is a fools errand. I have tried to talk with the city council about this but the captain has too much clout. They will not hear me. Lt Commanders log 17th of September We are setting out. I pray this mission can still be salvaged.